“Thamos has his own army,” Rojer noted. “One already bigger and better trained than his elder brother’s. At the rate the Hollow’s growing, it may soon be a match for Angiers and Miln combined. And Thamos is a hero, with more than one song to his name. Rhinebeck was too petty to even let his brother claim his own rockbird kill. How do you think he felt when Thamos shamed him in front of the other men?”
Leesha felt a stab of pain and looked down. She kept her nails short so they would not interfere in her work, but they were still enough to dig into her skin when she clenched her fists tightly enough. She forced herself to relax. “Have you spoken of this to anyone else?”
Rojer shook his head. “Who would I tell? I don’t think Thamos would believe me even if I told him, and Gared …”
“Would do something stupid,” Leesha agreed.
“There’s already been stupid to spare,” Rojer said. “I haven’t told you all.”
“Those idiots!” Araine clenched her fists, pacing with the strength and speed of a much younger woman.
“What are you going to do?” Leesha asked, when the old woman final slowed.
“What can I do?” Araine demanded. “I have no evidence but your Jongleur’s word, and Rhinebeck is duke. Once he sets his mind on something he can be stubborn as a rock demon, and I don’t have the power to overrule him.”
“But you’re his mother,” Leesha said. “Can’t you …”
Araine raised an eyebrow. “Use my magic mother powers? How often do you listen to yours?”
“Not often,” Leesha admitted. “And I usually come to regret it when I do. But Thamos is your son, too. Can you not beseech—”
“Believe me, girl,” Araine cut her off, “I’m not above playing every guilt and wile in my considerable repertoire to get my sons to alter course, but this … this is pride, and no man lets that go without a spear at his throat.”
She began to pace again, but it was slow, stately. She reached up, stroking her wrinkled chin. “He probably thinks himself quite clever. If Thamos is killed, he has one less rival. If Thamos succeeds and makes contact with the Laktonians, he can take credit for the whole thing.” She snorted. “It’s the closest Rhinebeck’s ever come to an attempt at espionage.”
She turned to look at Leesha, and smiled. “But just because we can’t stop it doesn’t mean we can’t turn it against him.”
“Oh?” Leesha asked.
“Rhiney and the others have never attempted espionage because they’ve never needed to. Janson gives them information, and they’ve never once asked where it comes from.”
Leesha felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. “You have contacts in Lakton?”
“I have contacts everywhere,” Araine said. “The dockmistress of Docktown was a friend of mine, did you know? Your Ahmann Jardir’s eldest son tried to force her to marry him when they took the city.”
“Tried?” Leesha asked.
Araine chuckled. “She put his eye out with the quill from the marriage contract, they say.” Her face went cold. “When he was finished with her, they say the lump of meat that was left barely looked human.”
Leesha remembered Jayan. Remembered the savage gleam in his eyes. She wanted to disbelieve, but it was all too plausible.
“We need the Krasians out of Docktown,” Araine said, “if we’re to take back the duchy and press them back to Rizon.”
“Everam’s Bounty,” Leesha said. “I’ve seen those lands, Duchess. The Krasians are entrenched. It will never be Rizon again.”
“Don’t be so sure of that,” Araine said. “I’ve been funding Rizonan rebels for months, and they’ve begun quite a bit of mischief. The Krasians in Lakton will be looking over their shoulders as their ‘safe’ lands burn. They won’t see us coming.”
“So Thamos has a chance?” Leesha asked.
“I won’t lie and say it’s a safe path, girl,” Araine said. “I know you love him, but he’s my son, and the only one worth a damn. He’ll be in danger the entire time, but I’ll see he has every advantage I can.”
“So now what?” Leesha asked.
“Now,” Araine said, “you get back to work curing my eldest.”
“You can’t possibly expect me to—” Leesha began.
“I can and you will!” Araine snapped. “Our circumstances with Miln have not changed. Even if Thamos comes back alive and well, he will always be in danger so long as the ivy throne has no heir.”
She waved a hand. “Let my sons bicker and plot. If we can unite with Lakton and force Euchor into the pact, the ivy and metal thrones won’t be worth a klat. The Hollow will be the new capital of Thesa, and Thamos …
“Why, Thamos could be king.”
Leesha was distracted throughout dinner. It was her first in Jizell’s hospit for quite some time, but the place still felt like home. Jizell and her apprentices had been fixtures about the Hollow the last weeks, and the others, even Sikvah, seemed similarly at ease.
“Delicious, as always,” Rojer thanked Mistress Jizell. “Every man in Angiers laments he could not take you to wife.”
“A wise man never marries an Herb Gatherer,” Jizell replied, winking. “There’s no telling what she’ll put in his tea, eh?”
Amanvah laughed at that, and Rojer smiled. “That’s what Mistress Jessa used to say.”
Jizell’s face went sour. “Both got it from Bruna, if not much else.”
“I’m getting tired of this,” Rojer said. “Mistress Jessa was never anything but good to me, and if you’re going to talk ill of her, I want to know why.”
“So do I,” Leesha said.
“She’s a Weed Gatherer,” Jizell said. “What more is there to say?”
“Ay, what of it?” Rojer snapped. “I don’t see the ripping difference. You both threaten to drug my tea, and mean it.”
“Ay, an Herb Gatherer will use her skill to bully someone that needs bullying,” Jizell said. “But their primary purpose is to heal and help. Weed Gatherers are the other way around.”
“Not to mention they’re all whores,” Vika said.
“Vika!” Leesha snapped.
Vika stiffened, but she did not back down. “Apologies, Mistress Leesha, but it’s honest word. Almost every brothel in the city is run by a Weed Gatherer. Usually apothecary shops with rooms upstairs where they sell more than cures.”
“Most of them were apprentices of Mistress Jessa at one time or another,” Jizell said, “and she takes a cut. Richest woman in the city short of the Duchess Mum, but it’s dirty money, earned off the marriages they destroy.”
Kadie brought the tea, and Jizell paused to add honey, stirring thoughtfully. “Bruna had already taken me on as apprentice and did not want another, but Duchess Araine insisted she take Jessa as well. The girl was gifted, but less interested in healing than aphrodisiacs and poison. Little did we know Araine was grooming her to run a private brothel for her sons. A way for them to remain under her control even when they were out being men.”
“It is why the dama’ting created the jiwah’Sharum,” Amanvah noted, “though my people honor such women, and accept the children they bear.”
“Well not here,” Jizell said. “Men can’t be expected to keep to their wives when there’s a brothel in every part of town. You can blame the drunk for pissing on your doorstep, but it’s the bartender who put the drink in their hand.”
“And that’s why Bruna cast her out?” Leesha asked.
Jizell shook her head. “She wanted the recipe for liquid demonfire. When Bruna refused to teach it to her, she tried to steal it.”
Leesha’s eyes widened. Any Gatherer worth the name knew something of the secrets of fire, but Bruna had claimed to be the last to know how to create that infernal brew. The old woman had kept it close for more than a hundred years, never teaching it to her apprentices. It was only when she felt the knowledge might be lost forever that she decided to teach it to Leesha.
“Why did you never tell me any of this before?” Leesha asked.
“Because it didn’t concern you,” Jizell said. “But now, if you have to deal with that lying witch …”
“I think it’s time I met Mistress Jessa,” Leesha said.
“We can go now, if you like,” Rojer said. “Set this whole thing to rest.”
“Isn’t it a bit late?” Leesha asked. “The sun is long set.”
Rojer laughed. “They’re only just stirring now, and expecting guests until the dawn.”
Leesha turned to him. “You mean to take us to the brothel?”
Rojer shrugged. “Of course.”
“Can’t we just meet at her home?” Leesha asked.
“That is her home,” Rojer said.
“Now just a minute!” Gared said. “Can’t be taking women to a place like that!”
“Why not?” Rojer asked. “It’s full of women anyway.”
Gared blushed, balling one of his giant fists. “Ent taking Leesha to some … some …”
“Gared Cutter!” Leesha snapped. “You may be a baron now, but I won’t have you telling me where I can and can’t go!”
Gared looked at her in surprise. “I was just …”
“I know what you were doing,” Leesha cut in. “Your heart’s in the right place, but your mouth isn’t. I’ll go where I please, and that goes for Wonda, too.”
“This should be fun,” Kendall said. “I know a dozen songs about Angierian whorehouses, but I never thought I’d get to see one.”
“And you shan’t. A heasah pillow house is no place for Jiwah Sen,” Amanvah glanced at Coliv, “or Sharum.”
“Ay, Wonda gets to go!” Kendall started, but Sikvah hissed at her, and she fell back with a huff, crossing her arms.
Amanvah turned to Rojer. “But you would think your Jiwah Ka a fool, husband, if you think I will let you enter such a place without me.”
To Leesha’s surprise, Rojer bowed to his wife. “Of course. Please know that I was a child in my time there, and a child only. It was never a place of passion for me.”
Amanvah nodded. “And it never shall be.”
“Dama’ting, I must …” Coliv began.
“You must do as you are told, Sharum.” Amanvah’s voice was cold. “I have cast the alagai hora. I am in no danger this night.” The Watcher did not protest further.
“No carriages,” Rojer said, as they exited Jizell’s hospit from the rear entrance.
Leesha looked at him curiously. “Why not? There’s no law that says we can’t ride at night.”
“Ay, but none actually do,” Rojer said. “Our passage will be noticed, and we’re going someplace we’ve no business going.”
“I thought you said the brothel was a secret,” Leesha said. “If no one knows it’s there …”
“Then they’ll see Hollower carriages at the doors of Mistress Jessa’s Finishing School for Talented Young Ladies,” Rojer said. “Which will be curiouser still.”
“What’s a finishing school?” Wonda asked.
“A place where young women are taught how to hook rich husbands,” Rojer said.